


Powerless

by DragonGirl218



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Corvo/Outsider will probably take a while to get to so please be patient but it'll probably be there, Gen, Human Outsider, M/M, Post-Low Chaos Ending, The Void, Work In Progress, more characters likely to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl218/pseuds/DragonGirl218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If a god was made from a man, it stands to reason that he could be made a man again.  But what would happen to that man, made but a mere husk of his former glory?  And would his allies still stand beside him, despite his weakness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chumming the Waters

Anton Sokolov was alone at home late one night. It had been a year or so since the rat plague had been mostly wiped out -- it was impossible to completely eliminate the rats and their disease now that they had been introduced, but it was easy enough to treat the occasional victim. He spent much of his days at the palace to work with Piero Joplin on various scientific and technological marvels for the young Empress Emily Kaldwin. His evenings, however, were free of royal commitment and he was more than grateful for the break. Much as he loved science he was a man of many talents and he couldn’t stand to neglect them. That night in particular he was pouring over old tomes and scrolls about whales, leviathans, the Void, and the Outsider. He had read them all countless times before, but he was certain that if he just read between the lines, something new would come to him.

Suddenly there came a series of sharp, forceful knocks at his door. He grimaced in annoyance but ignored it. Really, it was far too late for company. He figured that whoever it was could wait until a more reasonable hour to request his presence. Unfortunately the person on the other side of the door didn’t agree with that sentiment and another series of knocks followed shortly. Then came another. And another. Eventually Sokolov became fed up with the interruptions and stashed his tome under his arm as he went to answer the door.

“Who on earth needs me at this time of--” Sokolov’s anger rapidly petered out as he saw who was at the door. A whole squad of Overseers, fully armed, including a Music Box. The old Tyvian man’s eyes slowly trailed down to the book he held. Its spine quite visibly read “A Collection of Ancient Rituals Related to the Outsider.” His breath caught in his throat for a moment as the reality of the situation sunk in. “...Shit.” Unintentionally greeting the armed anti-Outsider division of the Abbey with a clearly incriminating book was definitely among the worst decisions he’d made in his life.

The lead Overseer tilted his head toward the book to better see the title through his mask’s eye slots, then turned to his companions. “Seems the High Overseer was right. He’s our guy,” he stated, to which the other Overseers nodded in agreement.

Sokolov broke out in a cold sweat at those words. He had escaped detection for so long, perhaps he’d even had blind eyes turned toward him due to his usefulness to the Empire, but now it seemed as though all his many years of hard work researching the forbidden had caught up to him. He didn’t want to be executed -- he couldn’t! -- not when he felt he was so close to a breakthrough! He turned to bolt back further into his house, but the lead Overseer grabbed his wrist before he could get anywhere.

“Anton Sokolov. The High Overseer requests your assistance in a matter of utmost importance. Should you comply, your transgressions against the Abbey will go unpunished for the rest of your life. It should also be said that the High Overseer believes that you will...enjoy this task,” he explained with barely withheld disgust as he pointedly glanced at Sokolov’s book. “Should you refuse, however, then you shall be tried as the heretic you are,” he added threateningly.

Sokolov gulped, then nodded. “Yes, I see what you’re saying. Allow me a moment to set down my book first…?”

“On the contrary, you may wish to bring more. The High Overseer said that he needs all of your knowledge on the Outsider for this.”

Sokolov’s heart skipped a beat. His knowledge, of the Outsider, was needed by the Overseers? That was a thought he never imagined. “Yes, yes, I shall gather up my notes, then. Much less to carry, and less to sort through,” he mentioned. The Overseer then let go of his wrist, at which point the Tyvian man hurriedly went back inside and gathered his things. His notes went into a briefcase so that they wouldn’t be swept away by a gust of wind. “Lead the way, good Sirs,” he said eagerly to the Overseers waiting at his door, who then proceeded to lead him down to the Abbey of the Everyman.

The men journeyed deep into the building, past the public spaces and the back offices, and down into a secret underground area. The walls were thick and the hallways empty such that one could hear every footstep and every echo of those footsteps. The hallways were dimly lit and the air thick with underground dampness. It was an eerie place, one that Sokolov could only equate to a prison, or perhaps a torture facility, though all the windowless doors were shut so he could only imagine. He silently prayed to the Outsider, hoping that he wasn’t being unwittingly led to his execution.

Eventually the lead Overseer reached a room near the end of the hallway and opened the door for the group to enter. Sokolov was first and he was shocked by what he saw.

The room was far larger than he had expected: he hadn’t even realized they were deep enough for a ceiling two stories high and the footprint of the room itself was fifty foot square. There were doors on each wall, though he knew not where they led. The place was illuminated by a light in the center of the ceiling and a lamp in each corner. But the thing that caught his eye was the pile of materials in the middle of the room, including such distinctive items as wooden beams, purple fabric, and a Rune carved from whale bone. “This...this is…!” So shocked was he by the sight that Sokolov couldn’t fully finish his thought, though the excitement and apprehension were both clearly audible.

“Yes Sokolov. It is what you think it is,” a confident voice boomed out. Sokolov looked up across the room to see the High Overseer in his distinctive red uniform had entered through the door on that side. This High Overseer had only recently come to power and yet already there were rumors of his...unorthodox approach to certain matters. “We have an important mission tonight, one that I hope you can help us with. First, I need you to construct a Shrine to the Outsider. We Overseers know the materials from having run across them on occasion but it would be heresy to build one or move one in tact, you see,” the High Overseer explained.

“I’d ask why, but I get the feeling you’ll explain when you feel like it, if at all,” Sokolov replied somewhat grumpily. He knew how the Abbey types operated -- quite similarly to the nobility, really, in how they liked their secrets and the haughtiness that came with having secrets. Still, he couldn’t fully hide the excitement in his eyes as he set aside his briefcase and set to work on constructing the Shrine. He had studied the construction of the Shrines for hours upon hours in his free time, hoping to discover which elements in particular were most vital to getting the Outsider’s attention, and so he knew the materials and methods as easily as any grandmother worth her salt knew how to make simple baked goods.

Sokolov took his time with the last step, the placement of the Rune, but when he was satisfied he took a step back and dusted his hands off on his trousers. “There, I have done as you asked. Based upon my research, this ought to be the most optimal configuration down to a tenth of a degree on the angles and a fraction of an inch on the lengths,” he stated proudly.

“Very good, Sokolov. I expected no less from someone of your caliber,” the High Overseer replied. His words were smooth as honey, but it didn’t take a genius of Sokolov’s level to notice that something sinister lurked beneath the surface. “Now...summon the Outsider,” he commanded.

Sokolov’s eyes went wide in shock at that request. There were so many ways he could respond to that. So many eloquent, well thought-out explanations. Unfortunately, none of them were what left his lips. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for decades?!” he shouted in exasperation as he threw his hands up in the air. He immediately realized why that was a terrible thing to say and wished he could unsay it, but alas, it was too late.

The High Overseer pursed his lips and narrowed his gaze until his expression drilled through Sokolov. “Well then. If you can’t summon the Outsider, I suppose we will have to consider this a failure. Overseers!” Suddenly two Overseers stepped forward and grabbed Sokolov’s arms to hold him still while the others (minus the one with the music box) pulled out whips and clubs from their uniforms. “Let us see if perhaps the Outsider will be more responsive if you’re desperate…” A grin spread across the High Overseer’s face, a grin of bloodlust and zealotry. Sokolov would have preferred the Overseers’ creepy masks over that terrifying expression any day.

There wasn’t much time to think about it, however. One of the Overseers clubbed Sokolov in the small of his back, which caused him to fall forward to the ground as the restraining Overseers allowed him to fall. He barely got his hands in front of him in time to avoid breaking his nose on the hard stone floor. “Outsider, I demand that you show yourself!” Alas, there was no answer. Another Overseer stepped up and began whipping Sokolov across his back. The older man held his tongue initially, but after three lashes he cried out in pain. “Outsider! Come to me!” he demanded. Again the Outsider ignored him. A third Overseer moved around Sokolov to kick him in the gut and roll him onto his back before stomping heavily on his stomach. Sokolov spluttered with flecks of blood escaping his mouth and he gasped heavily. He rolled over onto his side and reached out toward the Shrine. “Please, Outsider… Please, I beg of you…” he wheezed out.

“My my. I never thought I’d hear you of all people ask nicely for me.”


	2. From Bad to Wharves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm doing sea-puns for chapter titles. It's semi-obligatory for an Outsider-centered fic, I imagine.

Sokolov looked up at the area just above the Shrine and spied a figure he had only fantasized about. A teenaged boy in a brown coat and blue pants with short brown hair and eyes of shadow floated between the poles of the Shrine, wisps of the Void surrounding him, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess, haven’t you, Anton?” he asked in his usual satin drone with just a hint of freudenschade at Sokolov’s predicament.

One of the Overseers moved to harm Sokolov again, but the High Overseer held up his hand to stop him. Though the Overseers couldn’t see or hear the Outsider, the High Overseer knew from Sokolov’s trance-like state that contact had most likely been made. He made a subtle gesture directed to one of his men.

“Y-you finally…! After all these years…!” Sokolov tried to push himself to his feet, but unfortunately he had been roughed up a bit too much and merely fell flat on the floor again. “Why? Why now?” he asked desperately.

“Because, Anton. I see all possible paths. Most of yours tonight end in your death. What better time to reveal myself than when it’s too late for you to do any--” The Outsider quickly trailed off as he put a hand to his forehead. There was a buzzing in his mind that made it harder to focus. He looked around and spied the Overseer with the Music Box who had started the anti-Magic instrument up. “Blast these Overseers and their confounded contraptions,” he muttered. The god flicked his wrist and a powerful Windblast knocked the Overseer and those around him into the wall with enough force to hear bones crack. Despite the Outsider’s fascination with a certain masked vigilante, the god wasn’t one to put the well-being of unhelpful mortals above practicality.

“Next phase go!” the High Overseer commanded at that moment. With the Outsider’s presence confirmed undeniably, the three doors that Sokolov hadn’t entered through opened at once and more Music Box Overseers entered, one from each door to form a three-man group.

The buzzing in the Outsider’s head became more intense and he held his head in both hands as he tried to focus. Normally only the person he was directly talking to could sense his presence when he appeared like that, but he didn’t realize that the music made him fade into view of the Overseers. “These fools think that would be enough to harm a Leviathan…?” he asked himself and Sokolov with audible frustration.

On the one hand, Sokolov was fascinated by the scene that unfolded before him. On the other hand, however, he started to develop a sinking feeling in his gut. “Overseers, what in the name of the Void are you doing?”

“Watch carefully, Sokolov,” the High Overseer responded with eerie calmness. “Tonight, we are destroying a god.”

Obviously the Outsider didn’t like the sound of that one bit. It gave him the focus he needed to turn to face the High Overseer and locked eyes with him. For a split second the High Overseer looked into the Void, and the Void looked back. The Outsider noted that his foe was too close to the wall for a Windblast to cause damage and so used a rather more controlled Pull ability to lift the High Overseer off his feet and into the air. The god had full intent to slam the man against the ground with all the force he could muster. Instead the High Overseer merely dropped to the ground under the influence of gravity as the Outsider once more put his hands to his head.

Sokolov had to cover his ears as three more Music Box Overseers entered the room, making a total of six Boxes all playing in thunderous harmony. He could hardly believe what he was watching. He was in no shape to interfere, but he did manage to reach his briefcase and pull out paper and a pen to record the scene. The tendrils of Void that previously surrounded the lad were beginning to dissipate like smoke in the wind. From what he could see of the Outsider’s face, the god seemed to be in pain, his features scrunched up as his fingers dug into his hair.

“Do you fully comprehend what you’re doing…?!” the Outsider cried out as he opened his eyes to glare at the High Overseer, only to reveal that small specks of white were forming in his sclerae. It made the edges of his eyes look like the starry night sky but it could only signal something much more troubling.

“I am ridding the world of a monster,” the High Overseer replied. “Your presence brings nothing good to the world. All you do is corrupt and manipulate men, women, and children alike. You teach them dark magic and turn them away from the path of righteousness.” He spoke with conviction and strength as he watched a deity falter in his sight. “I will not allow you to exist!” He stomped his foot, which signalled another trio of Music Boxes to enter.

The Outsider groaned loudly as the music reached a tipping point. He could feel even his core powers become disrupted. His enhanced sight, akin to Void Vision, faded and flickered out to leave him with only what his physical eyes could see. The whalesong that he could always hear, the endless melodies both real and ethereal that provided him with his vast knowledge, quieted into silence. It became all he could do to keep himself aloft, something that was usually as easy as a human trying to stand. He glanced between the Overseers and Sokolov with fear in his eyes, and with rapidly growing white patches in his sclerae and spots of color returning to his iridae.

Without any time to recover, yet another trio entered. That was the point at which the god was broken. He screamed in agony and arched his back with his chest to the sky. The brand on his chest -- a “souvenir” from the ritual that made him what he was long ago -- burned like the sun, made worse by the contrast with his usual icy cold temperature. He’d gladly take a barrage of incendiary rounds from a Tallboy instead of that. But it got worse. Large streams of darkness flooded out from that mark, through his clothes, until it dissipated in the high ceiling of the room. He felt his power wane rapidly. It almost felt like he was being choked with such a vital part of his being squeezed out of him without the ability to go back in.

An eternity of pain, packed into a few brief moments. It was only when the last wisp left his body that his torture ended. His voice suddenly cut off as he lost consciousness and crashed through the Shrine to land heavily on the floor.

“The Great Leviathan is no more!” the High Overseer exclaimed victoriously over the sound of Music Boxes winding down as cheers erupted from the other Overseers, leaving Sokolov to gape at the body in the middle of the floor in a mix of awe and terror. What would be the repercussions for killing a god?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Debating whether or not to make Sokolov an ally after this. And poor Outsider.


	3. Meanwhale, Eelswhere...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took three chapters, but here's Corvo!

Corvo put a gloved hand to his mouth to cover a yawn that he just couldn’t hold back, due to one part sleepiness and two parts boredom, as he looked over the papers on his desk. During the day he was Emily’s Royal Protector, a job that kept him on his toes and hyperfocused on his duties as he watched her like a hawk, or perhaps a crow. Once the Empress was asleep -- which was fairly early, given her age -- his duties shifted to something a bit less engaging.

Put simply, since he was both her protector and her father figure, he screened all of her written correspondence to and from other nobles, countries, and any other influential persons. He checked to ensure that incoming letters didn’t have any poison dust on them, for instance, since his line of work and a certain supernatural boost gave him more immunity than most, and he also gave them a quick perusal to see if there were any threats that needed immediate investigation. In addition, however, he also wanted to make sure that the young Empress didn’t unwittingly offend anyone. Callista was good at checking Emily’s grammar and tone, but Corvo’s time as Jessamine’s Royal Protector meant that he was one of the most well-versed in political nuances out of Emily’s inner circle.

That didn’t make the task any less dull though. Corvo had mostly settled back into the peace that had fallen over Dunwall in the past year. It was difficult at first after his arduous time both in Coldridge and as the “Masked Felon” to let go of the excess tension. There were still things that inadvertently startled him overmuch, but at least he didn’t snap over a tap on the shoulder any more… Still, the point was, even though he wasn’t on edge, and even though he certainly didn’t miss having everyone in the Empire out for his head, he couldn’t help but yearn for some excitement. He’d already weeded out most of the troublemakers in Dunwall and the crown was still working on restoring the city after the plague so Emily hadn’t had the time or need to send him on any thrilling missions.

Corvo let out a crescendoed groan as he ran his hands through his long brown hair and messed it up more than usual out of frustration. He needed a break. He put his hands on the desk and pushed himself to stand up, nearly knocking over his chair in his vexation. He crossed the distance over to his room’s window and flung it open. Obviously he knew the dangers of leaving windows open when one wasn’t watching, having used such carelessness as his point of entry numerous times, but he was watchful enough to feel safe letting the cool evening air roll in.

The briny sea air always helped to soothe the Serkonan man’s restlessness. It was familiar and soothing, yet the slight sting of airborne salt in his eyes and nose kept him comfortably alert. His dark eyes scanned the horizon as he rested his gloved hands on the windowsill. On one side was the City of Dunwall, still alight with whale oil lamps and abuzz with late night activities. Those activities almost certainly included gang scuffles which were essentially unavoidable to some extent regardless of efforts by the City Watch, but there were also old friends getting back in the swing of mingling after work hours and going for drinks now that curfew was lifted, as well as a few businesses that worked into the early morning to increase productivity and provide work to those who had always been more active at night. On the other side of his view was the open ocean. With the sun set and the moon barely risen it looked like little more than gently roiling shadows. It reminded him of the eyes of a certain teenaged deity.

Corvo begrudgingly smiled at the thought of the Outsider. Although he didn’t like talking much, the god didn’t seem to care. Every so often Corvo would be brought to the Void while he slept in place of dreaming that night and the Outsider would speak at length about whatever cryptic thoughts passed through his mind. The Royal Protector rarely added much but the Outsider never seemed to mind. It often felt like the Leviathan didn’t necessarily care about Corvo himself so much as the notion of having company in general. Not that he could blame him. The Void was a vast, empty place, and he knew he most likely couldn’t comprehend exactly how long the god in boy’s skin had been there all alone, so he didn’t mind being pulled from his dreams. It was even preferable to the nightmares he often had anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp stinging sensation on the back of his left hand. Corvo’s brow furrowed as he scratched at it through his leather glove. The Outsider’s Mark had a tendency to flare up like that from time to time but usually there was some sort of reason. The Mark reacted to being near Rothwild’s Slaughterhouse for instance, which Corvo presumed was due to the slaughter of whales, which were connected to the Outsider and thus his Mark.

There didn’t seem to be any reason for this reaction. Worse, the pain wasn’t letting up like usual. He scratched furiously as the pain suddenly stepped up a notch. Corvo tore his gaze away from the horizon and looked down at his hand only to see that the yellow-green glow of magic was shining through his glove. That was worrying given that he hadn’t willed it to do that. He hurriedly closed the window and sat down on his bed before he pulled off his left glove. The Mark was glowing just as it would if he was charging a magic ability but something about it looked off. He couldn’t quite place what was strange about it…

Without warning the Mark burned brighter and hotter. Corvo grunted as he rubbed the Mark in an attempt to soothe it. He noted below the light show of magic circulating over his hand that the Mark wasn’t its usual black or even the light gold of charged magic, but an unsettling blood red. It gradually burned hotter and hotter until it became unbearable even for the Royal Protector. He ran off to his room’s attached bathroom -- ah, the perks of being a royal V.I.P. -- and got some cool water running in the sink, which he then stuck his left hand under.

Corvo sighed in relief as the cool water finally started to soothe the sensation. After a few minutes the visible magic effect faded and the Mark “cooled” from bright red to its usual black as suddenly as it had flared up. He somewhat relaxed to see it look normal again, then let the water run a minute longer to make sure that it wouldn’t react again. Afterwards he dried off his hand, turned off the water, and went back to sit on his bed.

He flexed his hand several times while watching closely to see if he could spot anything odd about the Mark. He turned his hand, poked at the Mark, even took off his other glove and ran his calloused fingers over the discolored and slightly raised skin. Aside from some residual heat nothing seemed different from usual.

“...Strange,” he muttered worriedly. He glanced over at the papers left on his desk but he felt his mind was too frazzled to focus properly. To have something so unexpected happen was unnerving at best. He needed to have a talk with his supernatural benefactor, but he didn’t have a Shrine to summon the Outsider at; all he could do was hope to talk to him in his dreams.

Well, if he went to sleep early, it stood to reason that he’d wake up early as well, right? So if he went to bed at that moment he could hopefully talk to the Outsider and have enough time in the morning to finish his work.

With that plan in mind he set about getting ready for bed. He took off his uniform and stripped down to a light undershirt and his pants, then silently prayed to the Outsider before he crawled into his bed. He was not a religious man and the Outsider was not a god who demanded worship, but he hoped that perhaps beseeching his presence would make it more likely to meet the Avatar of the Void.

Of course, he had no idea what had happened over at the Abbey that night, and who could say if he’d find out…


	4. Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter only took a few hours to write. Why so long since the last update, then? I was actually working on a different chapter but something felt wrong so I stopped for a while. Then I realized that this should come before what I had been working on, so now here it is.

Corvo “awoke” within the strange realm which he had grown familiar with over the past year: the Void.

Things felt off this time for some reason. He leaned against a conveniently located pillar as he tried to fight off a sudden bout of dizziness. His ears and sinuses also felt unusually stuffed up. Which was very, very strange; despite the Void’s bizarre architecture it was one place where he had always felt alert and clear-headed even amidst the fiasco with Burrows and the Loyalists.

When the Royal Protector had given himself enough time to grow used to the new hindrances he slowly opened his eyes. A dark shape flickered at the edge of his vision. He whirled around and cast a Bend Time spell strong enough to stop time. He expected to see the Outsider, or perhaps another Chosen like Daud, or maybe even a whale.

He found nothing.

Even after Blinking around the area rapidly enough that his mana would’ve been completely drained out in the physical world, he couldn’t find heads nor tails of whatever he’d seen. And he _knew_ he’d seen something. After his ordeals he had a tendency of mistaking things he saw for more dangerous things, but his training as Royal Protector had nipped in the bud any instinct to see things that didn’t exist -- an overly paranoid Protector would negatively impact the ruling power.

He saw that a path of stones floated in the Void. That was usually a good sign of where to go, so he leapt and Blinked across. As he went he began to notice a quiet, distant sound. A hum, or a wail. It was faint, but he somehow knew it was whalesong. There was that whale, seemingly in the heart of the Void, so it was likely the source of the sound.

Across the path he travelled, on and on, until Corvo slowly came to a stop. He put his hand over his eyes and squinted as he looked ahead. No matter how far he walked, he didn’t see any end to his path. He looked to the right to see if there was an alternate path but all he saw was the occasional floating boulder -- certainly not anything that could be considered a meeting spot even if he could reach it. He turned his head to look to his left and once more saw nothing interesting...except for a brief flicker of a dark figure at the edge of his vision again. He turned more to try to catch a better look, but once more he couldn’t find a trace.

“Outsider!” he called out, hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice carry further. “Is this your prank?” He had to admit, he was beginning to feel uneasy. The Void didn’t feel normal, the Outsider hadn’t shown his face yet, and he was certain he could see _something_ there with him. As each second passed without the Outsider’s appearance, his unease began to morph into fear.

Why wasn’t the Outsider there? He was always there, even if he took his sweet time to reveal himself. He was the god of the realm. It seemed unlikely for the god to be busy with something else, given that Corvo couldn’t see anything else in the vast emptiness.

So if he wasn’t there, then what was Corvo seeing? He began to slowly walk forward again while constantly scanning the horizon, and every so often he saw that shadow that immediately vanished as soon as he noticed it. He gradually became aware of the fact that the Mark on the back of his left hand was beginning to itch and grow warm. As he lightly scratched his hand, he caught sight of movement once more.

“Whatever you are, reveal yourself!” he spat out dangerously as he channeled magic into his Mark. Corvo wasn’t sure what skill he’d use, but he was ready once he knew what his foe even was. As he held the magic at the ready within his Mark, he suddenly felt a sharp pain down to his bones. He glanced down in time to see a tendril of darkness retreat away from his Mark with the pain going away as it did.

“I see you now!” he declared as he followed the darkness to its source. This time he actually saw the source.

He immediately wished he didn’t.

A mass of shadows “stood” upon the rock behind him. Its form flickered and faded and swirled hypnotically. It appeared roughly in the form of a hunched over humanoid, a good seven or eight feet tall even with that shape, and its eyes were pools of starlight. Corvo looked into those eyes and was overwhelmed by a vision behind his own eyes: darkness, a massive explosion, stars and nebulae and galaxies forming, fish in oceans, giant lizards, the beginnings of humanity...and at the same time, he felt the suffocating gaze of a force beyond comprehension looking into his soul...

He tore his eyes away mere seconds later, though it took all the mental fortitude he could muster. He put his hands on his knees as he doubled over to pant. The shadows observed; their very presence made the air feel thick as water. This was not something to trifle with, Corvo could tell that much. He straightened himself and took a step back while staring down the entity.

It didn’t allow that.

The instant Corvo moved, the shadows grew larger. It occurred to the Serkonan man that it looked like a bird spreading its wings. A fitting description given that it flew at him in a flash and enveloped him in its “wings.” He was in utter blackness, his hand burned, he gasped for breath as he began to drown in the heavy darkness.

_Knock knock knock._

Corvo bolted upright in his bed. He gasped for breath. He was drenched in sweat with his hair sticking to his face, and his clothes and sheets were soaked through. His left hand burned but was already starting to calm.

Before he was fully aware of the situation, someone knocked at the door again. “Mr. Attano, sir? Are you all right?” It was one of the maids, though Corvo was too frazzled to recall which one.

He used a bit of magic to freeze time for a few moments. He needed to get himself together. Deep breaths, Corvo. He looked over to his window and saw morning light stream through. That explained the concern: he should have been up hours ago and was likely either late for breakfast or had missed it entirely. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily as he got his mind on the right track for business.

Time began to flow again. “Yes, I am fine now. I...must have been ill last night and overslept. Did I miss anything?” he asked through his door as he stared at the letters on his desk. Those could wait for later.

“You did not show up to the Palace Guards’ dawn training regimen so they practiced amongst themselves. The Empress does not wish to start breakfast without you, though it is only ten minutes since the scheduled time.”

Ah. So it was that late in the morning? It hadn’t felt like his foray into the Void had taken that long, but then he’d heard that the Void wasn’t directly connected to the flow of time. “Let Emily know I’ll be there soon, but she ought to start eating something without me,” he requested as he headed toward his personal bathroom. There was no way he was going to go about his day without a cleansing bath.

“As you wish. Would you like me to contact the Royal Physician in regards to your illness?” the maid inquired.

Corvo grunted loud enough in reply that she could hear. He wasn’t the type to resort to doctors unless absolutely necessary, and especially when it came to Sokolov. He didn’t want someone so obsessed with the Outsider to have such direct access to his body, doubly so since he kidnapped the Tyvian back in the day.

Besides, that which troubled him couldn’t be solved by medicine. Where had the Outsider gone, and what in the name of the Void had seemingly taken his place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ominous enough for you guys?


	5. Floundering Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long with this chapter, Undertale consumed my life haha.  
> Also I hope my characterization isn't too horrible, I'm doing my best.

Eyes slowly opened as if burdened by the weight of the situation.  As consciousness began to override unconscious maintenance, already faint breathing suddenly ground to a halt.  It was fine at first but soon enough oxygen was converted to carbon dioxide and lungs began to burn.  In a panic the eyes shot open and hands weakly flailed as lungs kicked into shallow hyperventilation, with each exhale a pained grunt.

Anton Sokolov immediately set down his pen and hurried over to the bed where his guest lay.  Trained eyes assessed the situation rapidly.  “Calm down.  You must breathe -- as slowly and deeply as you can manage,” he advised evenly.  He stood beside the bed and leaned over the other man slightly.  He held his hands behind his back to help restrain himself -- he needed to keep a good bedside manner until he was certain he wouldn’t lose his patient.

Despite his advice, little changed.  Sokolov looked into the boy’s murky sea green eyes and saw many emotions struggle beneath the surface.  Confusion, surprise, anger, and...fear.  Oh, what an unexpected sight.  Sokolov’s lips turned up in a smile momentarily, though they quickly pursed in worry as he saw the boy’s complexion turn even paler, his lips taking on a bluish twinge as the shallow breaths failed to properly exchange gases in his lungs.  It was as if he didn’t even know how to…!

Oh.  Wait.   _Did_ he even know…?

The realization slapped Sokolov in the face.  He would need to make this as clear as possible.  “First I will need you to inhale and hold that breath for a moment, then I will need you to exhale and wait a moment before you repeat the process.  If that does not make sense to you, then...talk to me.  I can see you’re _dying_ to say something.” Wow Sokolov, what an asshole joke.  It did have a purpose, however.  He knew from his sources that the Outsider physically spoke to certain individuals.  That required one to both inhale and exhale even if the gas exchange didn’t do a god any good at the time.

That seemed to do the trick.  The Outsider inhaled shakily in a conscious effort to take control of his breathing.  “And why should I,” he paused a moment to inhale another somewhat shallow breath, “listen to such a boring mortal as yourself?” he asked with more disdain than usual in his typically monotone voice. He seemed to be getting the hang of the breathing thing, at least, now that he’d gotten out of the hyperventilation loop.

Sokolov pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed as he carefully considered the once-deity before him.  The Outsider seemed to be taking things rather well.  There was also the possibility that the full scope of the situation hadn’t hit him yet.  On the bright side, at least the scientist finally had his opportunity to converse with the Avatar of the Void, even if the boy wasn’t very Void-y at the moment.  He intertwined his fingers in his lap before speaking.  “Because I am a doctor, and because you very nearly passed out or worse before I intervened,” he explained.  His tone was mostly neutral aside from a haughty undertone.  He knew that he had the high ground, so to speak, with the Outsider in need of medical care as he was.

The Outsider laughed at the response he received, though he only got out a single hollow laugh before he winced in pain.  Pain.  Why was there pain?  ...Better yet, why was he even in...someone’s house?  His mind was fuzzy, he realized, which was not something he liked.  His sight and hearing were subpar as well and he felt so very, very weak.  His brow furrowed as he tried to piece together flashes of memory.

“As far as I can tell, Outsider, you’re human now,” Sokolov said suddenly as he watched the Outsider struggle fruitlessly with whatever memories he had.  That got him quite the wonderful look of utter shock and disbelief from the boy, which made him smile like a wolfhound that had cornered some prey.  “The Overseers did it...with my unwitting assistance,” he added softly.  Of all people he was one of the few who had any real idea of how terribly this situation could end and he hated that he’d done his part.  Alas, the High Overseer was not a man to be denied and the Tyvian man had not the strength to refuse.  “It seems that the Holger’s Devices can be very powerful in large groups.”

“You know, I never disliked the Abbey of the Everyman enough to do anything about them.  They always made it difficult for people to worship me, which helped to weed out the weaker willed devotees.  Humans are so very dull without opposition to their beliefs,” the Outsider said in his trademark drone, though it wasn’t nearly as silky smooth and lilting with purely human vocal cords.  “After this transgression, however…”  His murky eyes turned black -- well, the irides appeared to at least -- as rage bubbled beneath the surface.  Alas, rage took too much effort to maintain.  The boy coughed heavily and he lost any menacing edge to his visage.  Still, the unspoken threat against the Abbey wasn’t hard to pick up on.

“An understandable sentiment, but I doubt a half-dead teenager is going to have them quaking in fear,” Sokolov said mockingly as he jabbed a finger at the Outsider’s shoulder.  He caught himself before actually poking him, of course, but the intent was there, which spurred a rather annoyed look from the former god.  “Well, as much as I’d enjoy being able to watch over you, _I_ actually have a job to do,” he said with a grin that made the Outsider want to punch him in his stupid teeth.  Sokolov stood up from his chair with a small huff of effort.

“What are you going to do, Anton?  Leave a god in your home while you traipse between bars and the Cat until the Empress needs you?” the Outsider asked pointedly.  He tried to sit up in the bed but was too weak to do so and too uncoordinated to use his arms to scoot up against the headboard.  By the Void, he hated not being able to float everywhere.  It was so much easier than this “physical labor” junk.

Sokolov let out an amused “hmpf!” at his priso--err, _patient’s_ question.  “Of course not.  I’m leaving a child too weak to get into trouble alone while I attend to my job.  I do more than play nursemaid to Empress Emily, you know; Pierro and I work together to advance science in the name of the Empress.”  He explained as he got ready, grabbing a bag and placing his notes and tools in it as well as a coat to wear.  It was one of the warmer months but the sea breezes were chilly that time of year.  As an afterthought he grabbed a small bottle of his Health Elixir and placed it on the nightstand closest to the Outsider.  “Hate to say it, boy, but you’re in a pretty pathetic state.  A sip or two of that ought to at least give you the strength to hobble off to the bathroom if you need it.”

“Your generosity truly knows no bounds, Anton…” the Outsider said sarcastically.  He rolled his eyes, then reached out for the bottle of Elixir, to no avail.  He just couldn’t figure out how to get his blasted, powerless human body to do what he wanted!

The Royal Physician chuckled as he turned and left.  He made sure to lock the door behind him, though he didn’t notice the Outsider intently watch him do so.  Off to the palace to do some science.  And to get in touch with a certain Serkonan who might have some idea of what to do with a former god

The Outsider, for his part, continued to grasp for the Elixir while missing by mere inches each time.  His vision was fuzzy compared to usual and muscles were too complicated.  He sighed.  It was going to be a long day.


	6. The Start of an Eel-iance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Just got swamped by college and life and depression, but I come bearing a Bachelor's Degree and a new chapter!

Corvo sighed.

 

He had hurried off to breakfast as quickly as he could while still looking presentable enough, though the “family” at breakfast was still rather annoyed at him.  To keep everyone on the same schedule Emily and all of her inner circle -- those with the highest positions in their specialties -- had a family style meal to start the day.  But the young Empress really had waited for Corvo before starting breakfast, which meant no one else could eat either.  They were understanding of his explanation, but he knew they would be annoyed for the rest of the day since his tardiness had cost them a half hour of hungry waiting.

 

At least that was done with, and Emily had told him to take the morning off.  He had tried to protest, but she was too concerned for her father and number one subject to allow him to push himself when he clearly wasn’t feeling well.  He was rarely late to anything and never so much that a maid had to wake him unless he was ill.  Of course, she knew he wouldn’t want Sokolov to examine him so she merely made him promise to rest and see if he would feel better by lunch.

 

That was how the Royal Protector ended up wandering the halls of the palace without his young charge -- though he’d made sure to assign several trustworthy guards to watch her in his stead.  He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed once more whilst trying to sort out what had happened last night.  Between the Mark acting up and the strange dream he simply had no idea what was going on.  His magic still worked at least, so nothing could be too messed up, right?

 

“Corvo!  Just the man I hoped to run into!”

 

Corvo suddenly stopped in his tracks and focused back on the here and now when he heard his name, then groaned when he realized who it was.   _ Sokolov _ .  Why Sokolov?  The one man he  _ didn’t _ want to see.  He pulled his left glove tighter over his hand and silently prayed that the Mark wouldn’t flare up again.  He did not want to be Anton’s newest research material.

 

The Royal Protector grunted and inclined his head toward the Royal Physician, his usual polite greeting toward those whom he didn’t feel like spending the effort to form words for.  Most people understood that words tended to be hard for him, since so much of his job involved silence, though Sokolov always seemed miffed at it.

 

But not today.

 

In fact, the Physician seemed… different than usual.  Rather than contemplation, contempt, or excitement, his countenance was one of… worry?  Plus a bit of urgency that was rare in a man his age, who knew so well that there was always more time than one initially thought.

 

“Corvo, I need to speak with you.  Privately,” he said, quiet and serious.  When Corvo raised a brow questioningly, he sighed before continuing.  “It’s of a topic we’ve both danced around but which has suddenly become quite important.”

 

Corvo’s eyes widened as realization of what Sokolov meant dawned on him.  The man had finally come out and asked him to talk about, presumably, his powers or their source.  Yet… it didn’t sound like this was a matter of Anton’s usual curiosity.  He nodded and motioned for the Physician to follow him.

 

He led the man to his room -- its location was far from a secret -- and allowed him inside.  It was the safest place he knew of to have such a conversation.  The palace staff knew not to eavesdrop on him, in part since it was usually fruitless anyway, and it was an easy enough place to murder someone if things got too dicey.  Yes, Corvo thought of those types of things.  Part of his job and all.  He offered Sokolov his desk chair as he sat on the edge of his bed.  The Protector rarely had guests so he didn’t exactly have a surplus of seating.  That out of the way, he gestured for Anton to start talking.

 

Sokolov paused to gather his thoughts, then cleared his throat before speaking.  “It should come as no surprise to say that I have long taken interest in the Outsider.  I know it is a common ‘rumor’ throughout the aristocracy, only denied the title of truth due to my lack of punishment from the Overseers.  And, frankly, it isn’t hard to conclude that you’ve been gifted by the Outsider.”  He paused at that point before he chuckled at Corvo’s shocked face.  “Come now, one does not read as much into the matter as I without knowing what to look for.  Plus, I’m fairly confident you were the one who kidnapped me a year ago…” he pointed out.

 

Corvo gave no indication as to the truth of the kidnapping statement, but he did look annoyed at Sokolov’s loquaciousness.  “Your point?”

 

“Ah...yes.”  Of course.  Corvo never was one for long talks, and besides, his business was urgent.  “To cut to the chase…  The Overseers killed the Outsider as we knew him, I have a now-human former god at my house, and I request your assistance in dealing with him.”

 

Corvo stared at Sokolov, his mouth slightly agape.  His mind raced as he tried to process what he was just told, as well as piecing in the mysteries from last night.  The Outsider was no longer god of the Void?  Sokolov had him at his house?  The Overseers did it?  That black mass in the Void…?

  
“...What?”


End file.
